


The Rainbow Connection

by SleepingReader



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), BAMF Crowley (Good Omens), Children, Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), Gay Pride, M/M, Mesopotamia, Post-Scene: Church in London 1941 (Good Omens), Pride, Rainbows, Transphobia is mentioned and then immediately obliterated as it should be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-13 06:08:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20169409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepingReader/pseuds/SleepingReader
Summary: Aziraphale was an angel, and therefore incredibly good at waiting. Whether it was waiting for a bus in a distant future, or waiting for the land to rise, Aziraphale waited. He was the sort of person to watch paint dry and enjoy every moment of it. He wondered if the new race of humans would come crawling out of the water, then banished the thought with a small laugh. Nowthatwas unbelievable! Aziraphale plucked himself an olive, and chewed on it thoughtfully, spitting out the pits into the sea. And he waited.Some leagues away, someone was getting VERY tired of waiting.Crawley’s feet were wet and it wasn’t pleasant. If he had been a snake, he would have been absolutely fine. But sadly, he was very much humanoid and also very much in a position to not be a snake at the moment. We will find out soon why.A story about children, their demonic protector, the angel caught in the midst of it all, and ending with rainbows.





	The Rainbow Connection

**Mesopotamia**   
** 3004 BC**   
** Forty Days Later**

Aziraphale sat on a rather large olive tree, swishing his toes in the water, waiting for something to happen. He wasn’t sure what should happen. But he was sure something would. Maybe the water would recede. Maybe it would rise.  
He gazed out at the endless sea. There was something in the distance. Maybe it was a cloud.  
Aziraphale was an angel, and therefore incredibly good at waiting. Whether it was waiting for a bus in a distant future, or waiting for the land to rise, Aziraphale waited. He was the sort of person to watch paint dry and enjoy every moment of it.* He wondered if the new race of humans would come crawling out of the water, then banished the thought with a small laugh. Now _that_ was unbelievable! Aziraphale plucked himself an olive, and chewed on it thoughtfully, spitting out the pits into the sea. And he waited.

*Provided the paint came with some popcorn

Some leagues away, someone was getting VERY tired of waiting.  
Crawley’s feet were wet and it wasn’t pleasant. If he had been a snake, he would have been absolutely fine. But sadly, he was very much humanoid and also very much in a position to not be a snake at the moment. We will find out soon why.

First, we are back with Aziraphale.

Who was looking towards the sky, where the little cloud seemed to be struggling. He gently called out to it. When it came closer, he saw that it wasn’t a cloud at all, but a small dove. It was mottled grey, more a pigeon than a dove, really. And it was tired.  
Aziraphale held out an arm for it to rest on and it plopped down gratefully and cooed at him. He fed it an olive, which it attempted to swallow whole. Definitely a pigeon then.  
After Aziraphale had accomplished what was possibly the first Heimlich manoeuvre, the pigeon hopped to and fro, beady eyes looking for land.  
‘Not yet, I’m afraid’ Aziraphale told it, feeding the pigeon a small bite of olive.  
The pigeon cooed in a reproachful tone.  
‘Maybe wait a few more days. I think it’s going down.’ Aziraphale said with angelic confidence.  
The pigeon seemed to shrug. It ate some more olives, crapped on Aziraphale's hand and set off in what Aziraphale assumed was the direction of the boat.  
Aziraphale sighed and rinsed his hand off in the water.  
It really did seem to be receding.

Crawley risked another glance out of the crack in the ceiling. Last time he checked, he got a faceful of water for his efforts.* Now, however, the watery breeze merely tickled his eyelashes.  
‘Not long now.’ he murmured, only mostly to himself. He tried to find a spot where his feet wouldn’t get wet.  
He settled down for another nap. The fish bones scattered around him clutched to the strands of his hair like it was a baited hook. Edible algae clung to the walls. Something moved beside him.

*Which might have had something to do with the unicorn swimming by.

Some days later, Aziraphale climbed down to the lower branches of the olive tree. He soon found that he could stand up to his ankles in water. The water had been receding faster and faster as if someone had pulled the plug out of the metaphorical bathtub.  
Aziraphale saw something in the distance and held out his hand again for the pigeon to sit on.  
It ate some olives and then disappeared with a branch Aziraphale held out for him.  
Aziraphale watched it go.  
He vaguely wondered where Crawley had gone.  
He decided to wander around a little.

_A little while later…_

Sunlight fell through into the cave and straight into Crawley’s eyes.  
‘Ngghhh….’ He murmured, as he was poked in the side by a bony elbow. He really should start thinking harder about those dark glasses.  
He sat up groggily. Tried to take in his surroundings. The sunlight was beaming into the cave.  
‘No!’ Crawley gasped, scrambling up, frantically imagining the underwater cave to be fully watertight again. He glared at the doorway, squaring up the intruder and was greeted by a very familiar hairstyle.  
‘There you are.’ Aziraphale said, sounding satisfied. The angel turned away and walked a little while off, leaving Crawley in the cave.

A small hand slid into Crawley’s.  
‘Is it over?’ The young girl asked him. He knelt to her level. She was too skinny, bony elbows and ribs and entirely too much of her kneecaps showing. But she was alive. And so was her brother. And the eight other children under his temporary care.  
And some Grace slid back into Crawley’s voice, if only for half a second.  
‘Yes, dear. It’s over.’  
It had rained for forty days and forty nights. And, as promised, when the children took their first tentative steps outside where Aziraphale stood waiting with some large loaves of bread, a multicoloured arch spread across the sky.  
Crawley went to stand next to Aziraphale, watching the angel pass out the bread to the hungry children. The girl still held his hand.

‘Not a word.’ Crawley began in a warning tone.  
Aziraphale held up a hand not currently filled with bread to silence him. He passed out some bread to the girl holding Crawley’s hand. She immediately broke it in half and shared it with the demon.  
‘You have a fishbone in your hair.’ Aziraphale said and took it out for him.  
‘Yeah.’ Crawley replied, thoughtfully chewing on the bread. Then, still feeling defensive, he said: ‘They’re going to be on our side, you know. The kids.’  
Aziraphale treated him to a sideways smile.  
‘I’m sure they will. Such a loss for Heaven.’

**London**   
** 1941**   
** Ten minutes after the bomb**

Aziraphale sat in Crowley’s car, holding the bag of books safe in his lap. He also very much wished for the airbag to be invented already. Or even a seatbelt.  
Crowley’s Bentley could go about as fast as a modern jet engine, and Crowley was gleefully making sure it did. They speeded through narrow streets, small markets and hidden houses, that all seemed to hop out of the way. Sometimes, Aziraphale felt like his ears were being left behind. He clutched both the books and braced himself in the seat. But for all Crowley’s reckless driving, the demon was perfectly relaxed. One hand lazing on the steering wheel, the other languidly shifting gear. It almost felt like they were going on a picnic at the beach and got up early, instead of having just exploded a nazi-filled church.  
Maybe they’d have a picnic one day, he thought.  
Then again, maybe not. He added, as Crowley made a u-turn around a terrified-looking pine tree that just happened to be in someone’s garden.  
The demon pressed the pedal to the floor, rushing the car through a straight stretch of road. If Aziraphale would have taken off the demon’s sunglasses, he would have seen the enormous glee in his eyes.  
Faster and faster the car started to go…  
Until it didn’t.  
In exactly the same way Crowley had imagined an underwater cave to be perfectly watertight, he now imagined a car going 88 miles an hour standing perfectly still.  
Aziraphale rubbed his ears, which had finally caught up with him, before assessing the situation. What on Earth would make _Crowley_ stop his car?

And then a little flash of red caught his eye. A flash of red just large enough to be a treasured football. And the small child running after it.  
And the headlights of a truck coming ahead. Not even a warning horn. Just quiet, inevitable Death…  
And Death spread his wings…

The child squeaked as it was plucked off of the road by the collar of his coat. The truck rushed by, squashing the ball with a small _Crack_ that could very much have been the skull of a child shattering.  
Crowley marched the slightly swinging kid to the front door of the house he had come from, put him on the doorstep and rang the doorbell. The kid tried to run into the road to reclaim his lost ball, but a glare from Crowley had him saying put. Aziraphale gingerly put the bag of books on the seat and got out of the car. Crowley kept glaring at the child as sleepy footsteps stumbled down the stairs in the house.  
Crowley felt a nudge on his elbow and reached back to take hold of the mended football. He passed it to the child and rang the doorbell a few more times for good measure.  
They were back in the car when a cry of ‘Colin! Oh good Lord!’ Was heard.  
‘Lord didn’t have anything to do with it.’ Crowley murmured under his breath, starting the car again. Aziraphale put the books on his lap again.  
He found himself staring at Crowley, the second time of disbelief tonight.  
‘Not a word.’ Crowley said.  
Aziraphale shook his head, then realised Crowley couldn’t see him.  
‘Promise.’ He said softly, trying very hard not to take Crowley’s hand as it rested on the gear shift.  
Crowley made the wheels of the Bentley spin, disturbing an oil spill on the road, which took the colours of a rainbow, if only for a second.

**London**   
** Present Day**   
**July**

Crowds surged through London. Parade floats covered the streets in multicoloured confetti and everywhere, people were performing a mixture of dancing and marching as they celebrated their Pride. As the parade came through Soho this year, Aziraphale had made a small effort to put up some flags of his own in the windowsill of the bookshop. He and Crowley had decided not to partake in the festivities, but to watch from a little distance. So many people, so many things to consider.  
Aziraphale had stepped out of the shop for a colourful scoop of ice cream when he heard a high-pitched scream. He turned around, his chocolate flake nearly falling out, to see a very young short-haired woman being yanked out of the crowd by what seemed to be a very angry family member. The woman, who looked more like a girl, tried to pry herself away from the grip of the family member, but to no avail. Bystanders were slowing down to try and help, but the crowd behind them was too large in the narrow street.

With a snap of his heart, Aziraphale recognised her as one of the high school kids that he actually enjoyed having in his bookshop. She was polite, kind to the books and most times, brought snacks. She was always quiet and always seemed to be running from something. Aziraphale sometimes paid her on the weekends to shelve some books or dust some tomes. She always took her lipstick and mascara off before leaving, and sometimes asked to use the bathroom to change out of her dress.

Aziraphale had stepped two paces forward to help her when the doorbell of the bookshop jangled angrily. He had never heard his bell jangle angrily before, but when a furious demon bursts through the door, it can’t help it.  
Crowley ran over the sidewalk to end up in front of the bend in the road. Aziraphale started wading through the crowd himself, as Crowley obviously had better things to do.

Crowley, meanwhile, had recognised the girl as well. His solution was a little better than Aziraphale.  
He made it to the bend in the road, moving with the crowd, then he turned around and whipped his sunglasses off. His yellow slitted eyes cast a primal fear over the crowd, who had seen coloured lenses and were 100% sure that this guy wasn’t wearing any.  
‘Let. Me. Passss.’ Crowley said in a hiss that makes any monkey’s brain decide to find a comfortable hole somewhere and come out in, oh, a decade or so.  
If the fear of Crowley works on plants, it works even better on people.  
The crowd parted like the Red Sea for Moses.  
Crowley ran, for what seemed like the first time in his long life.  
It took only a glare at the girl’s mother for her to let go of her daughter, who she insisted on calling a wrong name.  
The girl immediately took Crowley’s hand.  
‘*******, you either come, or you’re not welcome in our home anymore.’ The mother hissed at her child.  
The girl wiped the tears from her eyes and looked up at Crowley. He was still glaring at the girl’s mother. Crowds parted around them, and for a second, it seemed as if the battle was lost.  
‘She’s welcome in mine.’ Aziraphale spoke up.  
‘Angel.’ Crowley sighed.  
Aziraphale took her other hand. The girl looked at him with stars in her eyes.  
The mother stormed off.  
‘Mister Fell? Mister Crowley? Did… did you mean this?’  
Crowley looked pleadingly at Aziraphale. Aziraphale smiled at the girl.  
‘Of course, Ava. Go enjoy the parade. And when you’re done, come back to the bookshop and we’ll see what we can do about all this.’  
With great surprise, he found her arms wrapped around his neck, before she went over to Crowley and hugged him, too.  
They watched her dash away into the crowd.  
Crowley was staring at Aziraphale with a strange look on his face.  
‘Not a word.’ Aziraphale told Crowley, gazing kindly at the demon’s yellow eyes.  
Crowley kept his promise. He didn’t say a word when he swooped in and kissed his Angel square on the lips.  
Aziraphale smiled and embraced his demon.  
And the third rainbow of the story comes from a flag, tugged from its pole by a strong wind, dancing in the July breeze as an angel and a demon kissed in front of a bookstore.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> From the following prompts from my Ineffable friends at the Good Omens Discord
> 
> 'after the church was bombed, Zira drove with Crowley for the first time'
> 
> 'Zita finding Crowley in a cave with the surviving kids after the flood taking care of them'
> 
> I decided to combine them. I hope you all enjoy!


End file.
